


Try and Catch Me If You Can

by idontevenlogic



Series: My Baby Shot Me Down [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drinking, Enemies that flirt a lot, Enemies to Lovers, Guns, Kissing, M/M, Oikawa being the biggest tease ever, Sort Of, Spy!Iwaizumi, Thief!Oikawa, mild violence, ridiculous costumes, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenlogic/pseuds/idontevenlogic
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a top tier secret agent that travels the world stopping all sorts of bad guys, and he's good at his job. So why can't he catch one this one thief by the name of Oikawa Tooru? This is a few of the many times Iwaizumi Hajime nearly caught Oikawa Tooru and the one time he did.Spy AU where the spy (Iwaizumi) gets a huge crush on the thief (Oikawa) that he's supposed to catch.





	1. Too Gay For Any Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skiathos, Greece 20XX
> 
> Iwaizumi and Matsukawa are sent in to round of a gang of smugglers who are also forcing men and women to give up their liberties due to blackmail. A simple mission, really, but it turns into something so much more when Oikawa Tooru, the Ruby fo Sea, appears and sends everything into utter chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus begins the first multi chapter for this series! I hope this chapter is okay. I put a lot of work into it and I wouldn't have finished it without my my lovely, amazing inspiration, Alpaca! I love you, Alpaca, and thank you for your support and encouragement while I wrote this!
> 
> Warning: this will be a bit more adult than the last part of the series, but nothing explicit.

_**Skiathos, Greece 20XX** _

On the small Greek island in the northwest corner of the Aegean Sea was a lounge called Sirens, a two story building with the second floor entirely devoted to being an open roofed patio for guests, with scattered ocean blue couches and resin brown coffee tables. If you liked visiting nightclubs and being the in company of beautiful men and women, then you’d most certainly heard of Siren. Walk in for free and dance to the voices of the singers, but pay a good handful to get some alone with your favorite performer (no sex, no dances, no unwanted touching), just a drink and an hour of reveling in their stimulating conversation, endure the torture of how close they could get without touching, stare at the ruby red lipstick and rosy blushes, get lost in a spiral galaxy of eyes. However, if you were rich and greedy and horny, you could take the way downstairs to exchange an object or word of great value for something more than talking. It could be just a rumor, but who knows?

Iwaizumi Hajime knew better. It wasn’t a rumor, and he was looking forward to adding this place on the list of smuggling and trafficking joints that he’d taken down. Daichi had insisted that he take the mission, given how obsessively he’d been working with Kenma to research Oikawa Tooru, and with all their work and effort they had still come up with nothing. Cabin fever, they said he had, so here he was, out and on a mission to take down some really fucking bad guys.

Iwaizumi had captured terrorists and interrogated valuable information out of them using methods that some would call unethical without batting an eye, knowing that he would be saving lives by doing so. He’s taken down human trafficking rings and drug lords with kingdoms at their fingertips. He’s even stopped an assassination or two, and traveled all around the world, never seeming out of place because he can quickly assimilate to his surroundings like a chameleon. All around, he’s one of the more proficient and capable secret agents you could meet, extraordinarily talented in just about any field of espionage you could name.

Which was why he was perfect for this mission. Apparently, there had been a recent spike in activity in the lounge, ethical and unethical. More powerful political figures, especially form the Hellenic Republic and Italian Parliament, had been turning up at the club to supposedly meet with a new performer by the name of the Ruby of the Sea. A singer that had the luring, soulful voice of a siren and the teasing charm of a mermaid. From the past few nights that Iwaizumi had been conducting surveillance on the place, he had gathered an understanding that the Ruby of the Sea would be meeting with a member the republic tonight where a valuable painting would be trading hands in exchange for time with the alluring performer.

“Hey, Iwaizumi?” There was a loud slurping sound in his ears and Matsukawa finishes up his soda from the burger joint they’d stopped at before Iwaizumi had left for Sirens. He had wanted to enjoy some local cuisine, some food they wouldn’t get anywhere else, but his handler had complained about having a serious craving for burgers.

“Yeah? Make it quick. I have Mateo Giles in sight and I don’t plan on losing him anytime soon,” Iwaizumi replied, speaking into the rim of his glass. “Besides, the Ruby of the Sea comes on next and after that's when the deal’s supposed to go down.”

“Oh, pardon my interruption, Juni Cortez—“

“Enough with the _Spy Kids_ references, Matsukawa.”

“It is an underrated kids classic! But sure, sure. I won’t bother you anymore. We wouldn’t want you to miss a chance to ogle at a pretty boy.”

Iwaizumi uttered bored groan. “I don’t ogle at just _anyone_ , Matsukawa. I have some standards, you know?”

“No, you’re right. You do have standards, but you’ll throw them out the window the minute you catch a glimpse of Oikawa Tooru. Don’t think we all don’t see you practically drool at the pictures of him.”

“I don’t drool over him, you—”

“ _Sure, you don’t_ ,” Matsukawa drawled, laughing, but he suddenly stopped. “Look to your left, just coming out of the bathroom. He’s wearing contacts but it’s definitely Oikawa’s partner, Hanamaki Takahiro.”

Iwaizumi had to hold himself back from spinning around and tackling the thief to the ground. It was Hanamaki Takahiro, though, that was correct. Short cropped, strawberry blond hair, and a lazily content expression as he strolled across the room and plopped himself down onto a couch next to Iwaizumi’s target, Mateo Giles, and began to make friendly conversation. Okay, that was highly suspicious. What was he here for? . . . And if he was here then where the hell was Oikawa? Were they planning to rob the politician before he could meet with the Ruby of the Sea? Steal everything the smugglers had?

“Now, that guy is a looker, no doubt,” Matsukawa grinned into Iwaizumi’s ear.

Iwaizumi snorted to stifle a humorless laugh. “Who’s got standards now, Matsukawa?”

“I have standards, high standards, thank you very much, and Hanamaki Takahiro’s exceeding every one of them, now if we could just work on his moral alignment . . .”

 _This is fine_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself, dragging out a contemplative huff. _I just have to rework my plan to include catching the two of them as well as the smugglers. I’ve handled harder and much more dangerous missions._ He could do this, and his well earned confidence eventually overcome the initial surprise he’d been hit with at the abrupt appearance of Hanamaki Takahiro. He feel the adrenaline of the job begin liven him up now more than ever, like the buzz from an addictive drug. Two missions in one night? Just what he needed to get back on his feet.

“Cameras,” Iwaizumi mumbled, maintaining his composure, eyeing Hanamaki Takahiro out of the corner of his eye.

“Already on it,” Matsukawa responded right away. There was the familiar beats of fingers clacking against a keyboard. “This place is is lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. These guys must be really paranoid about getting caught. Getting past their coding was easy, but navigating these pages of security layers is a fucking nightmare.”

“You can find _him_ , though?” the agent asked.

His handler grunted in frustration. “If you give me a second or two, yeah. I know you got the hots for Oikawa Tooru, but, sheesh. Patience is a virtue.”

“Not right now it isn’t. Also, I do not have the hots for him.”

“Denial is an unflattering color on you, Iwaizumi.” There were a few beats of silence between then only broken by the sound of typing, and then there was a sound from his handler that he really never liked to hear, “ _Oh._ ” You see, that kind of oh, never meant anything good.

Iwaizumi didn’t get the chance to ask about it, though, because the lounge was suddenly bathed in a soothing, cerulean blue that had his heart hammering in his chest, and the stage had a single, ruby red spotlight shining down on a glimmering black piano. Suddenly, Iwaizumi felt like he was back walking on the brisk streets of Great Britain at night, chasing the remnants of a ghost to a hotel room where only a paper and a song had waited for him. As soon as the Ruby of the Sea appeared, wading from the azure lights and stepping into the crimson, Iwaizumi’s entirety itched to move and chase, desperate to catch him. Meanwhile, Oikawa was opposite, almost appeared lazy with mettle like he didn’t have a secret agent on his tail, but there was that gleam in his eyes that said otherwise, spoke volumes, showed that he could feel the same underlying currents electricity in the air between him as Iwaizumi.

Oikawa sat on the bench for the piano and smiled to his audience, which had gone silent in anticipation. For a split second, Iwaizumi thought that he and Oikawa had made eye-contact, but if they did then Oikawa was pretending that they didn’t. He pressed his fingers to the piano instead and started to slowly play the familiar notes of _La Vie en Rose_ , then lifted his voice to sing out the lyrics in the original French (which Iwaizumi was trying to convince himself did not make Oikawa that much more attractive, that it didn’t nearly make the room seem empty aside from the two of them). His voice was clear and strong yet had a soft vulnerability to it that made Iwaizumi ache.

Iwaizumi thanked the years of training that had hardened his resolve into stone. Oikawa Tooru had a hypnotic hold over him, but he was determined to not let it cloud his judgement this time. He hadn’t seen Oikawa since their last encounter at the museum celebrating Cleopatra’s crown, but it felt like it had been too long.

“Again? Iwaizumi, I know he’s pretty but at least to control your staring. Do not make me come in there and slap the living daylights out of you.” Matsukawa snapped the agent out of his reverie, and Iwaizumi was right back on the clock, assuming his steel focus. “Focus up. Our target is talking to that Hanamaki character, probably about closing the deal. Get ready to move out and follow him downstairs.”

“Understood.” Iwaizumi then reclined back into his seat and inclined his ear towards the conversation happening just a few seats over.

“That’s him?” Mateo Giles asked, a sickening grin in place that Iwaizumi wanted to punch off his stupid face. He watched Oikawa like he wasn’t anything more than a zoo animal behind glass for his entertainment, and not admiring him for the artist that the thief was.

“That’s him, my brother, Seth Gecko, the Ruby of the Sea,” Hanamaki replied. _Okay, they’re playing their cards close to their chest. No real names. Maybe they’re doing the same to the smugglers, and using this place as a means to an end._ “Now that you’ve seen him, do you want the deal or no? I think the company and myself are being pretty generous by only asking for the painting.”

“What more would you want?”

“The Ruby of the Sea is _very_ appreciative of friends who are willing to give out some fun facts here and there,” Hanamaki said, almost offhandedly. Although, Iwaizumi could see a twinge of disgust in his eyes as he looked at the politician, like he was trying to defend his partner with nothing more than an intense glare. “Say, share a few words on a man your prime minister is keeping hidden in his parliament. A guy who goes by the name of Mars, by any chance? If you were willing to hand over any information you have on him, I know the Ruby of the Sea would be more than willing to show you the depths his gratitude.”

“You have yourself a deal, Richie Gecko.” Mateo Giles and Hanamaki shook hands and proceeded backstage to, assumably, wait for Oikawa to finish his one number.

“Did you hear that Matsukawa?” Iwaizumi murmured, just under his breath. So, there was more to this than just a robbery. There was information up for grabs that Oikawa wanted, was willing to sacrifice his own body for. “They’re not just after the painting, but information on a guy called Mars.”

“I’ll send the name to Kenma and Akaashi and see what’ll come up,” Matsukawa responded. “Anything else? Iwaizumi? Oi, Iwaizumi? You’re sticking to the mission, right? You’re not getting sidetracked? Jesus fucking Christ, Iwaizumi, I can see where you’re walking, don’t think you can hide from me. I have eyes everywhere in this place! Iwaizu— What the hell are you doing?”

“Following them, duh,” Iwaizumi replied, already on his feet. He made like he was going to the bathroom but then cut away to follow the politician and thief.

“Remember. The mission is taking down this place, not Oikawa Tooru and Hanamaki Takahiro. Got it?”

Iwaizumi grinned, a wonderful surge of adrenaline adding a bounce to his step. “I can take this place down and bring in Oikawa and Hanamaki. After knowing me all this time, Matsukawa, you’re still doubting me?” he teased.

“Very funny. Just . . . if it comes down to it, you know what to choose. Right?”

 _Oikawa Tooru._ “The smugglers.”

That seemed to satisfy Matsukawa enough, who was then content to let him follow Hanamaki and Mateo Giles. He stood just outside the door where they were exchanging a few words here and there with the leader of the smugglers in the Sirens, a small guy called Jawa. They were discussing the terms of the deal, all while the politician was writing down everything he knew about Mars. When he set the pen down, Hanamaki swooping in to take the paper, Mateo motioned to a painting wrapped in brown paper to protect the oils from the harsh lights in the room.

“Constaninos Volanakis’s _The Arrival of Karaiskakis at Faliro_ ,” he said. “The genuine article. Valued at two and a half million euros.”

Hanamaki gave out a low wolf whistle, appreciatively. He picked up the painting and unwrapped it. His grin grew even wider once he laid eyes on the swirls of oil paints and colors. “I am going to make so much money off this,” he sighed, happily, pressing a kiss to the painting.

“And my night?” Mateo Giles demanded, thrumming his fingers against the table.

“The Ruby of the Sea is in room one in the hall over, but give him a couple minutes while he slips into something nicer just for your viewing pleasure.”

“Okay, you have the boss in sight,” Matsukawa said, voice crackling over their earpiece. “We can use this opportunity to put Plan A into action. Go in there and—Iwaizumi, what are you doing _now_?”

“Oikawa’s alone, and they’re still finishing up the deal. I’ll find a way to contain Oikawa and then go with Plan B. Cool?”

Matsukawa huffed, unsure, but replied, “Fine.”

That was all Iwaizumi needed to hear before he was off marching towards the designated hallway. Each step felt like he was walking a marathon. “Oh, that excited to see him, are we?” Matsukawa chirped into his ear, a smirk in his words, but he was promptly ignored. Soon enough, though, Iwaizumi was standing outside the simple door. He didn’t even bother to knock, his heart beating a stack in his chest, louder than any drum. He threw open the door to find Oikawa lounging back on a turquoise couch, sprawled yet as lithe as a cat. His mind blanked when he caught sight of the ruby red corset with red veils of a darker crimson shade draping down his arms and just behind his legs.

“ _Hello_ ,” he drawled, that familiar tone of seduction almost deafening Iwaizumi, “Parliamentarian Giles, I’ve been waiti—” He looked up and finally met Iwaizumi’s withering glare and they widened to the size of saucers, glimmers of excitement shining through them, before quickly recovering and morphing into a fake confusion, though the corners of his lips were quirking up. “Iwa-chan, you’re not a horny politician,” he observed, with a crooked grin. “You have zero tact and aren’t in a loveless marriage.”

Iwaizumi didn’t waste anytime in rushing across the room to try and grab Oikawa to try and put him in some sort of arm lock, but the thief just narrowly avoiding his grasp, jumping onto the bed just adjacent to the sofa. He grinned at Iwaizumi, deviously and rubbed his lips together. “Long time, no see,” he chuckled haughtily. “You know, Iwa-chan, if you really wanted to spend some _alone time_ with me, all you had to do was ask and I’m yours.”

“As if I would want _that_!” He made a show of pulling out a pair of handcuffs, confidence building up inside him. He could end the game of cat mouse between them before it really ever started.

He expected Oikawa to eye the metal restraints with some sort of fear, but, instead, his eyes just lit up like a kid at Christmas, his eyebrows waggling suggestively and a string of giggles escaping past his lips. “You don’t want me but you then you pull out the universal symbol for “I want to tie you up when I fuck you”? You’re giving off some mixed signals, Iwa-chan.”

“I’ll tell you something,” Iwaizumi said, getting into a sturdier stance in case Oikawa decided to jump him. “I’m going to finish two jobs in one night. I’m going to bring both you and your friend in, as well as take down a major smuggling ring. You’re going to be interrogated and then sent to jail. Receiving any mixed signals from that, Oikawa?”

“It’s adorable that you think it’ll be that easy, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smirked tempestuously. There was that smug confidence, the self-assurance that Iwaizumi found incredibly irritating and set his teeth on edge. It was almost like Oikawa was underestimating him, and there was nothing he hated more than being underestimated. He was daring Iwaizumi to fight him, and the agent was more than happy to oblige.

A fist fight is never as fluid as the movies would like their audiences to believe. Fighters always have a trick or three up their sleeves, weapons, or a plan they’d had since the beginning of the brawl. Even for experienced fighters, predicting an opponent’s technique and decisions are something that Iwaizumi has never wasted time with. In a fight, especially being an agent, all that matters is winning the fight, gaining the upper hand and exploring it to use their own weight against them in order to bring them down. Oikawa, however, was a just a slippery thief, and he fought like it. He was quick, dodged with ease, and was light on his feet, while Iwaizumi was sturdy and strong in his attacks.

And it didn’t help that Matsukawa was giving an overly dramatic play-by-play of the whole ordeal. ( _“And Iwaizumi’s going in for the first punch—Oooooh! And he misses, better luck next time, champ!”_ Or _“It seems that Oikawa is trying to wriggle out of Iwaizumi’s grasp—Will he make it? Aaaaaand He made it! Amazing! Ladies and gentlemen, Oikawa Tooru, the Wriggle Champion!”_ )

Iwaizumi would punch, Oikawa would dive would out of the way and bounce to higher ground. If he managed to get close enough to try and sweep his legs, Oikawa would jump up and then head butt him in the chin, sending his brain into sudden burst of excruciating pain and turning his brain into cotton. There was a game to their fighting, but also sheer brutality, no clever banter between them, only the heated desire to pin the other down. However, Oikawa had a significant disadvantage that he had been careful to keep out of Iwaizumi reach, the vermillion, lacy drapes down his arms. He couldn’t keep them from Iwaizumi’s fast hands for long, through, and once he managed to grab ahold of them, Oikawa was completely at his mercy.

Their fight had felt like it had been going on for hours, vicious exchanges and unyielding eye-contact, and he had built up a sweat, but he finally had Oikawa right where he wanted him, hands behind his back, and it had only been a few minutes. Some of the most invigorating minutes of his whole life. Something about Oikawa, he guessed, the intensity he could draw from Iwaizumi with only a sly smile.

Iwaizumi deftly kicked his legs out from under him, and Oikawa fell to the ground with a _Oof!_ and then chuckled, out of breath. “You’re less bumbling than I thought you’d be, I’ll give you that, Iwa-chan,” he smirked. Then he winced and gave a puppy whimper of displeasure when Iwaizumi slapped the handcuffs onto his wrists.

“Now, where to put you until . . .” Iwaizumi mumbled to himself, glancing around the room, before catching a glance at a small closet just across the room. He ignored Oikawa’s complaint and pushed him into the small storage room before bracing a chair up against it, just in case Oikawa _somehow_ managed to untie himself from the lace Iwaizumi and bound his hands in as well as the handcuffs. He wasn’t taking any risks, not this time.

“Iwa-chan, you can’t leave me in here!”

“And why not?” Iwaizumi asked, leaning his hip against the door and giving out a satisfied, haughty sigh. Wow, winning felt _really_ good. “With you locked in this closet, I don’t have to look at you and I can keep you there until I’ve taken down the Sirens.”

There was a bump, starting Iwaizumi away from the door. He assumed Oikawa was throwing his shoulder against the wood. ”Iwa-chan, I’m too openly gay to be put back in the closet! Lock me anywhere else but here!”

If he hands stopped himself, Iwaizumi would’ve burst out laughing. Matsukawa, on the other hand, was a cackling mess over the earpiece. “Okay, okay! Iwaizumi, the dock is down the stairs just outside the hallway. Stick to the plan. Take out the boats and guards nearby. The sound will will attract Jawa, the boss, and he’ll come down to investigate. Any muscle that comes with him doesn’t need to make it out of here, we just need him.”

“Roger that,” Iwaizumi responded.

“But don’t blow up anything important!” the handler exclaimed right into his ear.

“I know, Matsukawa! This isn’t my first fireworks show, you know?”

“Iwaizumi, the cherry bombs are only if everything starts going wrong!”

“I know! You sound worse than Suga right now, and that is saying something.”

“I can bet you so much money that Oikawa would not find that temper of yours attractive.”

He exited the private room, ignoring Oikawa’s shouts from the closet ( _“Iwa-chan, you’ll be lucky if I ever sleep with you after this betrayal!”_ ). He snuck down the stairs with a skip in his step, pulling out the Franchi SPAS-12 from the back holster hidden behind his coat, moving down the staircase and wincing with every wooden creak. He would’ve been happier with a Remington Model 870, but Nishinoya had promised him that the Franchi was perfect for the mission, and he didn’t have it in him to argue with the enthusiastic firearms master (if it was Asahi, he might’ve said something).

At the bottom of the stairs, the salty scent of ocean water filled his nose. The warehouse doors were open and the speedboats, cruisers, were tied at the dock like sitting ducks. He did a quick sweep of the area to make sure that no one was there to pose any immediate threat. One by one, he went to each of the boats and planted the cherry bombs inside the crevices of the engines like pieces to a puzzle (much to his handler’s complaints, which he shut up when he said it would cut down on ammunition wasted if he just used the bombs), and then watched as the cruisers exploded into a bright, destructive, rolling clouds of fire, red, yellow, and orange.

“And why would I care about what Oikawa finds attractive?” Iwaizumi was somehow completely unable to let that one comment go. Now he was waiting for the smugglers to come to him. He could already hear the commotion over the dying sounds of the explosions, but smoke still lingered in the air and burned his lungs as he breathed it in. “He’s criminal that I’m chasing to, like I do, bring to justice and shit like that. He’s more like my nemesis than some teenage crush.”

“Let’s put this in a literature context,” Matsukawa replied. “Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler. Straight, I know, but work with me here. The greatest detective in the whole world could never be outsmarted by anyone else other than the gorgeous femme fatale. The same thing applies to you, Iwaizumi. You’re the best agent at the Seijoh Agency, but you were bested because of a pretty face, just like Sherlock Holmes.” There was a beat of silence. “I know we all teased you about it at first, but we’d all be stupid not to see that you actually admire him . . . Wow, there’s a lot of baddies coming for you, Iwaizumi. Think you can take all of them on?”

“There’s nothing to see,” Iwaizumi insisted. He cocked the shotgun and lazily let his rest just over his shoulder. “And of course I can, I’m Iwaizumi Fucking Hajime.”

“And so humble too,” his handler muttered sarcastically.

The bad guys came in droves, with guns or brass knuckles. A swarm, an army against one man, but these were the kind of odds that Iwaizumi lived for. He loved being a one man army. None of them were nearly as experienced as he was, so taking each one for hem down with a mixture of well placed shots, skull crushing smacks with the butt of the gun, punches and kicks felt just about as simple as knocking over a precarious tower of dominoes, very satisfying. For a split second, he saw Hanamaki Takahiro appear at the top of the stairs, eyes widening a fraction in surprise before taking off in the direction where Iwaizumi had Oikawa locked up in the closet.

“Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi grunted, jogging up the steps, narrowly dodging a bullet that splintered the wooden railing. “Be ready outside.” He reached the top and fired his final shot at the last guy.

In all honesty, Iwaizumi did not like the after effect of violence. His limbs might hurt from where they’d managed to hit him or a bullet grazed him, and the sight of his enemies groaning their final breaths out is not a good sight. It unsettled his stomach to think that he hurt them that badly, but then he remembered that they had done things far worse and deserved this, so he went on with his life.

“I see them,” his handler replied, interrupting his thoughts. “He’s headed for where you’re keeping Oikawa. You shouldn’t have locked him in that closet.” Iwaizumi was hot on Hanamaki’s tail. He could hear the thief shouting, “Oh Shit Oh Shit Oh Shit Oh Shit Oh Shit!” as he picked up speed. This guy, like Oikawa, was fucking fast, and even though Iwaizumi was tired from his bout with Oikawa and the smugglers, he needed to catch Hanamaki before he could get to Oikawa.

He had a feeling that once the two sneaky minds were together, it would be harder than ever to catch them.

“Matsukawa, Jawa must be in his office since he wasn’t with his men to try and intercept me at the docks. I don’t want to lose Oikawa and Hanamaki so grab him for me while I try and nab these two?”

“Fine, if I have to,” Matsukawa huffed. He then tried to rev himself up by shouting right into Iwaizumi's ear, “Secret agent Matsukawa Issei is on the case and will serve these criminals some delicious fucking justice!”

* * * * * *

“Oikawa?” Hanamaki called out, bursting into the private room, quickly using the chair off to the side to keep agent Iwaizumi from busting in. He had never run that fast in his entire life, much less carrying an expensive ass painting that was worth millions. His chest was burning from the exertion and every breath was heavy and painful. He scanned the room and nearly screamed when Oikawa fell out from a closet, which he now saw had been what the chair he’d taken was blocking. Seeing his best friend flopping around in an attempt to get up, looking much like fish out of water, would’ve been funny as hell in any situation other than this.

“What happened?” he asked, deftly undoing the slightly looser bindings and using his skeleton key to unlock the handcuffs. The skin at the wrists was a little red, but Oikawa’s intense, morning moisturizing routine would take care of that soon enough. “Did Iwaizumi actually catch you?”

“This outfit was for me to strut my sexy stuff not run or fight a trained super spy!” Oikawa replied, standing up. He brushed himself off and pouted once he saw how badly the lace sleeves were ripped from being forced to bind his wrists. He tore off what was left of the sleeves and caught Hanamaki’s coat when it was thrown at him. “And then he locked me in the closet too, Makki, can you believe that?”

“But you’re too gay to be in any closet.”

“ _I know, right?! But he wouldn't listen to me!_ ”

The was a slam against the door and they both whipped around to look. It had to be Iwaizumi. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” they both cursed in unison, just under their breaths and exchanging worried glances. An agent as tough as Iwaizumi shouldn’t take too long in breaking down a door. They had a minute, at most. So, they looked around for another door out or some sort of exit. There was only a window, though, small but they could fit through it once the glass was broken.

“Okay, um. Window?” Oikawa asked, giving his friend a confused shrug. He slipped on the coat and started buttoning it up. It didn’t cover a lot, still showed his long legs but it was better than nothing he supposed. He started pulling at the sleeve to make sure that his elbow was nice and padded as he approached their only exit.

“Really? The window? You want us to Rapunzel out of here _Jackass_ style?” Hanamaki snapped, following just behind but still looking for literally any other option. He glared at Oikawa with an are you serious? sort of expression. He wasn’t the biggest fan of heights, and jumping out a window didn’t seem like the most constructive way to overcome his fear.

“And you have a better plan, Makki?”

The door gave another thud and Hanamaki suddenly changed his tune. “Yup. Window. You come up with the best ideas, Oikawa.”

“Oh, sure, desperation suddenly makes you much more agreeable.” Oikawa slammed his elbow into the glass and it shattered. Good thing it wasn’t bullet proof. Although, the coat sleeve was torn and the glass that cut Oikawa’s skin nonetheless. Beads of blood started seeping through the fabric and Oikawa hissed in pain, cradling his arm.

“My coat!” Hanamaki nearly screeched, helping Oikawa clear away any sharper shards of glass before they jumped through. “That was my favorite fancy coat!”

 _Yes, thank you for your concern, Makki. My arm is just fine, thanks so much for asking. I knew you cared about me_ , Oikawa thought ruefully, rolling his eyes. “I’ll buy you another one!” he returned, promptly jumping out the window. Luckily, he landed on the roof of a van that had been parked right under the window, a pretty, sleek black vehicle that immediately started sounding its alarm once Oikawa fell on top of it. It was loud and would certainly draw attention if they didn’t get out of there soon. “Get your ass down here, Makki!”

“Catch me!” Hanamaki shouted back, one leg hoisted up and over the window sill but not moving any further because wow they were higher up than he thought they were.

“You’ll be fine, just land on that van! I’ll get our car started!” And with that Oikawa started sprinting across the parking lot.

“Fuck you, Oikawa! You know I hate heights!”

The sound of the door splintering open behind him was all the push Hanamaki needed to leap out the window with vigor. He landed on the van and ran after his best friend, the piece of art still in hand. He nearly laughed when he heard Iwaizumi scream out a “GODDAMN IT!” He hopped into the passengers seat and Oikawa slammed his foot on the gas pedal, pulling them out of the parking lot with a sharp, ear-piercing shriek of tires skidding across pavement. They finally breathed a sigh of relief once they were a minute away. They probably didn’t have time to get back to their hotel to rest for the night. Luckily, they traveled light and had all their belongings in the car, so it would be on an airplane where they would be sleeping for the night.

“Did you know that they would be here?” Hanamaki asked.

“I thought this place was off their radar,” Oikawa replied. “I chose it specifically because I thought it was on Mars’s and not theirs. No matter. We have the painting, and what did you get from Mateo Giles?”

Hanamaki help up his phone and started playing the recording he'd taken of the politician.

_“Mars came into the Parliament with information on all of us and our families, and we thought he was a threat but then the Prime Minister welcomed him with open arms, like they were old friends, but was clearly afraid of the man. He was after art and money, obviously, and did ask about the Sirens. He did kill one of the members of parliament, out of the blue, for no reason that we knew of. Prime Minister pretended not to be troubled by it, but he was shaken by the whole affair. He and the Prime Minister made plans to come to Sirens tonight so maybe you’ll see him, and then he was going to fly out to Hong Kong tomorrow morning, said he was going to be there for a few months. Now, about the Ruby of the Sea and I, I want him to—”_

Hanamaki switched it off with a disgusted grunt. “You don’t need to hear the rest of that. The guy was a fucking sicko, no wonder he’s a politician.”

“Fucking hell,” Oikawa swore, seething through his teeth. Hanamaki felt bad for him. After everything Oikawa put himself through at Sirens just so that he could catch up to Mars, and the fact that it was all ruined just as it was about to begin must’ve really sucked. Oikawa was prideful, didn’t sleep with just anyone or give any of himself up that willingly, but he hadn’t put aside his pride and done what he thought was necessary. And yet it yielded nothing this time. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was going to be here. I nearly had him if Iwa-chan and his little buddy hadn’t shown up.”

“Next time,” Hanamaki said, pulling out his phone to inspect a new text. “However, we have a new job, good pay. There's an unveiling of a new exhibit in Rio de Janeiro, at the Museu do Indio. They found new crystal skulls at an archeological dig that they believe belonged to the Aztecs or the Mayans, and everyone on the blackmarket wants one. We'll make a killing if we can get our hands on two, but I say we go for five of the ten they found. Then we can head to Hong Kong, start establishing ourselves and possibly confront him then.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, it’s still frustrating. Years, my entire life, and I got so close and now I’m forced to run away like when I was a kid instead of confronting him.”

“I know.” Hanamaki switched on the radio. Music always helped Oikawa calm down. “Hey, so I jumped out a window today.”

“Yeah, that was pretty badass,” Oikawa laughed. “Let’s hope that van didn’t belong to anyone important.” He revved the engine and sped towards the airport.

* * * * * *

Iwaizumi glanced over his shoulder and was happy to find a lot of the girls and boys that had been forced to work for Jawa were watching their captor being dragged away. Jawa had ruined their lives by blackmailing them, they must’ve felt a sense of liberation in watching him being taken away. A few of them were smiling victoriously and when Jawa turned to snarl something at them, Iwaizumi punched him in the nose without even thinking about it. There were cheers behind him and he smiled. Sure, Oikawa and Hanamaki might’ve gotten away and that was frustrating as fuck, but he took down another bad guy, killed his men, and freed some good people from horrible work. In all, a good day’s work.

Then again . . .

“MY VAN!” Matsukawa yelled, downright furious, leaving Iwaizumi to drag Jawa along while he raced towards their vehicle. He threw open the backdoors and jumped in. Everything seemed to be intact, only a sizable dent in the roof, but he was still acting like a worried parent as he looked over every single piece of his computers and screens. “MY EQUIPMENT! OH MY GOD ARE MY BABIES OKAY? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter is littered with references.
> 
> Oikawa and Hanamaki's fake names are taken from From Dusk Till Dawn, written by Quinten Tarantino. The whole scene in the private room was ever so slightly inspired by the Elephant Room scene in Moulin Rouge. The guns were from Black Lagoon. And the smuggler boss's name Jawa, was a reference to the Jawa scavengers from Stars Wars: A New Hope.
> 
> Song:  
> The one Oikawa sings and plays on piano: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0feNVUwQA8U (I've been listening to this song since I was a kid and couldn't resist putting it in)
> 
> The painting: http://artdaily.com/news/27167/Constantinos-Volanakis--Masterpiece-The-Arrival-of-Karaiskakis-at-Faliro-Sells-for-1-609-250-Pounds#.WuerUWaZOL0
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it and if you would really like to read more! It would be really helpful!


	2. A Royal Pain In The Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hong Kong, China 20XX
> 
> Iwaizumi and his team as well as two others are sent to take down drug rings and also round up some very influential counterfeiters. If only two thieves dressed as characters from Naruto hadn't shown up, then everything would've turned out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! After so freaking long I bring you chapter 2 of this part of the spy au!
> 
> Writers block is a bastard and that's why this took so long for me to update, apologies all around, but hopefully you'll like this chapter. I worked really hard on it, but I literally have no excuse for how RIDICULOUS this part is.
> 
> I'm talking Animaniacs level of zaniness!
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Hong Kong, China 20XX** _

This had better be a great fucking day.

Iwaizumi’s blood had already been stirred to life during Daichi’s briefing in the hotel room, adrenaline flooding through him like water from a broken dam. He had tried and ultimately failed to keep his leg from bouncing with excitement and impatience for about ten minutes now, but he didn’t hear Bokuto or Kuroo complaining so he wasn’t too keen on stopping until it was time for action. Then again, his partners were just as restless as he was. The three of them, occasionally exchanging confident looks, were feeling good about this mission. It would be a great way to relieve the tension in his muscles that had built up as a result of a certain elusive thief. Daichi had been able to tell that his best agent was in a dire need to be a part of a mission that was guaranteed an easy success, all to take his mind off thieves that had thus far evaded all forms of capture for about three months since the incident in Greece (also counting the one in Rio de Janeiro).

Iwaizumi, traveling all over the world to 1) try and arrest him, and 2) complete other missions, had glimpsed him here and there. In a museum, only to lose sight of him disappearing into a tour group. In a department store trying on the stupidest pair of sunglasses only to escape in a taxi (driven by Hanamaki) a few minutes later. It seemed like no matter where or when Iwaizumi Hajime headed him off, Oikawa Tooru always managed to slip through his fingers like sand through a sieve.

So, Iwaizumi was grateful that Daichi brought him onto this mission. It would certainly help him take his mind off Oikawa Tooru, act as a sort of breather.

The mission was this: There were reports and solid evidence to show that there was a group of drug dealers in the Hong Kong area that were also distributing counterfeit money. They would use the fake money to small drugs from smaller rings and then stash it away to then sell at a far higher price. If Iwaizumi and the other agents could round up this ring of dealers, they could get the names of the other distributers and take down bigger rings. So, Seijoh Agency was called in by the Chinese government to take action, to wraps this whole affair up as neatly and as quietly as possible.

In Iwaizumi’s opinion, it was almost too easy and would certainly bounce him back to his normal self, ready him again to take on Oikawa Tooru.

Currently, Iwaizumi, Bokuto, and Kuroo were staking out the base of the counterfeit operation. A concrete building covered in graffiti that was really bit harsh on the eyes, blaring neon colors in nonsensical patterns and a few names and initials here and there. The building itself was constructed to look like an auto repair shop, with a few fixed and broken down out in the front and even around the back. However, once you got past the garage door, it was a whole other story. Practically empty, aside from four tables and a row of safes along the back wall. It was located well away from the bustling city life, but far enough away for the dealers to come and go as they pleased without drawing too much suspicion. It served its purpose, but would also help the agents in capturing and/or killing their targets without attracting too much attention.

According to the information Shimizu had gathered during her watch on, there was supposed to be a meeting at 1830 where the supplier who printed the counterfeit would make an appearance to show them the printing process. It was decided that Iwaizumi would take point on the mission, Shimizu’s and Tanaka’s teams at his commend, and he them in formation Wasatch. Iwaizumi’s team, consisting of Bokuto and Kuroo and himself, would go in through the back, Shimizu’s team of Nishinoya and Sugawara would go in through the front, and Tanaka’s team of Asahi and Yamamoto would enter through the right entrance. That left all the exits covered, and now all they had to do was lie in wait for the meeting to start and for the hired printer to arrive.

Yup, sit here with two chatter boxes and . . . wait.

“Yaku’s such a lucky bastard,” Kuroo whispered with a grin while scrolling through his phone. He was a tall guy who looked good in black and everyone knows it, however he had a terrible crow’s nest for hair and scheming hazel eyes. Iwaizumi was happy to have him on their side, because Kuroo would make a good villain with his cunning brain. “He and Lev get to do some sightseeing in the Himalayas while they catch a terrorist.”

“Why would they be sightseeing when there’s a terrorist to catch—?” Iwaizumi started.

“Yeah, but we get free food and they don’t,” Bokuto interrupted, shuffling through a deck of cards to keep himself from fidgeting too much. It was a way to keep his hands busy and the rest of him perfectly still. And the cards were a gift from Kuroo ( _GI Joe_ themed to match his wallet). “That ma po tofu was delicious, right, Suga?”

There was a small round of chuckles over the comms. “Bokuto, just because we’re here on a job and staying in the apartment above the restaurant does not make the food free,” Suga chuckled, his voice muffled by static. “You’ll be paying for that. Thanks by the way, Bo, you’re the best!”

“Why do I have to pay?” Bokuto shot back, almost mortified. “You’re married to our goddamn director, Suga! You’re flush with cash!”

“I don’t have my wallet with me.” Lies. Iwaizumi made a face to try and hide his amusement. He had just seen Suga visit a street vendor and buy a stupid, black shirt with some printed pattern that he knew was definitely too tight for Daichi to ever fit in (but Suga always had a thing for watching Daichi rip shirts because of his muscles).

“So, you’re telling that I have to pay for a meal that we shared out of my own wallet, all of you didn’t tell me, and then to add insult to injury you let Noya take my baby AKS for this last leg of the mission?” Bokuto questioned. Everyone sounded off with hushed affirmatives, Suga whispered that the restaurant would bill Bokuto when he got back and Nishinoya mumbled something about how he loved the way the AKS-74U shot. “You’re all fucking traitors! Especially you, Noya, I trusted you. There will come a day that you all will regret making fun of me like this and need my help? And will I be there?”

“Probably,” everyone replied in unison.

“It’s why we love you, Bo, you’re always there for us.”

“Flattery wont do you any good, Matsukawa,” Kuroo piped up, glancing at his best friend who was now sulking with his arms crossed and his lips in a puppyish pout. He grinned and kicked his best friend’s foot playfully. “He’s sulking now. You’ve awakened the emo inside him. If you listen closely—” He pressed his ear to the side of Bokuto’s head “—you can hear the distinctive melancholy sounds of Evanescence’s Bring Me To Life. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

Iwaizumi shook his head and grinned, testing the weight of the two Beretta 92FSs in his hands. They fit well and would certainly pack one hell of a punch when fired, but he was also looking forward to the lack of recoil. It would amok moving forward so much easier. Out of the three teams, he was only one who could dual wield firearms, an accomplishment he was quite proud of. Besides, Shimizu had grabbed the Glock 30 and Tanaka had snagged the Remington Model 1100 before he could get his hands on those beauties, so he would have to make due with these babies.

1820\. Ten more minutes until this part got started. Iwaizumi peeked inside through a crack in one of the windows, still empty like a graveyard in there.

“So, Iwaizumi,” Kuroo started conversationally, playing with the safety of his 9mm, which made Iwaizumi a tad nervous. “I was surprised to see on the plane. Finally taking a break from hinting that pesky, little thief thats been giving you grief?” His words made Bokuto snicker, it seemed like he was just fine.

“Ha ha, very funny. Mock me all you want, Kuroo, but I’d love to see you try and catch the slippery bastard,” Iwaizumi returned, raising an eyebrow at his teammate, like he was challenging him. Because he was so bored, he unlatched the magazine form one of his guns and studied it, started counting the bullets. “It’s almost impossible for me to get a bead on him. He appears whenever there’s a high class auction, unveiling at a new exhibit, huge city celebrations, and sometimes just out of the blue for no rhyme or reason. I chase after him for who knows how long only for him to disappear right when I think I’ve got him. It’s so fucking frustrating!” He irately snapped the magazine back into place.

* * * * * *

_**Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 20XX** _

_Carnival. A celebration of street theatre, music, costumes, dance, and nightly romance that took over the entirety of Rio de Janeiro. Everyone was dressed in wild costumes of feathers and satin or silk, loud and colorful makeup, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs as they weaved through the streets trying to catch a glimpse of the parade of magnificent floats or were up on the roofs of all the buildings along this main drag, tossing neon confetti into the air and screaming with excitement._

_It was the perfect hiding place for Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi knew it, and that’s why he was here. Terushima Yuuji, their prime source of worldwide information, had snapped a picture of Oikawa at the Museu do Índio, taking a pleasing gander at the crystal skulls unveiled just in time to amaze tourists that flew in for Carnival. Some people thought the skulls belonged to the people of Atlantis or aliens (if you watched that not-so awesome fourth Indiana Jones movie) that visited to Aztecs and the Mayans to impart wisdom or some shit like that. It had taken Terushima a minute to recognize Oikawa Tooru in his disguise (the Tom Baker’s 4th Doctor costume and nine-foot-long scarf from the classic Doctor Who series), but as soon as he did, he sent the picture to Iwaizumi who was on the first flight out to Rio de Janeiro before anyone could get a word in. Impulsive? Yes, but after the fiasco in Greece, he wasn’t willing to let this opportunity slide. He hadn’t been humiliated by their escape, per se, it was just really vexing that they had slipped through his fingers for a second time. He wouldn’t let it happen a third._

_So here he was, being swept up in the massive crowd of drunk tourists and revelers of Carnival, music blasting in his eardrums and beautiful colors that made him feel like he was on some hallucinogenic drug. The costumes around him were revealing and should felt dangerous to his bisexual heart, but he was more focused on thinking of what Oikawa was probably dressed in (purely for the purposes of trying to learn Oikawa’s methods, not because he hadn’t forgotten how captivating Oikawa had looked in that ruby red corset, definitely not that). According to Terushima, who he was temporarily working with and knew his way around Rio die Janeiro like the back of his hand, had said that Oikawa had disappeared along this stretch of streets so he was bound to run into him eventually. However, they were so many people having a raucous time around him and the confetti falling from the neighboring buildings like snow was obscuring his vision._

_It might be more difficult than he thought it would be, but he had a job to do and Iwaizumi wasn’t one to give up._

_As he was scanning the crowd, listening to Terushima sing obnoxiously over the comms, he spotted a familiar set of flashing lights. The Civil Police of Rio de Janeiro. It could mean a number of things, like someone was trying to drive while drunk, a fight had broken out or anything like that, but something in Iwaizumi’s blood, a gut feeling, a pull, made him think that it could only mean that Oikawa Tooru was closer than he thought he was. There was nothing certain about the feeling, Iwaizumi just knew._

_He started pushing his way through the crowd, eyes frantically scanning over the faces and telling Terushima that he might have a lead. He was making good headway, only been hip bumped off balance a couple of times, but then he was suddenly grabbed, yanked into the crowd and was then pulled into the clumsiest kiss he’d ever experienced. The police, on foot, rushed past him shouting in Portuguese, but he almost didn’t hear them over the defining sound of his heartbeat in his chest as he locked lips with a total stranger dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean, plush, warm, sweet lips pressing crushingly against his._

_“You’ve still got the greatest pair of lips, Iwa-chan,” the stranger whispered breathily, hot breath fanning across Iwaizumi’s face, before vanishing into the crowd._

_“OIKAWA!” Iwaizumi yelled at the top of his lungs, diving headfirst into the sea of people to try and catch hold of the thief._

_That had been the third time Oikawa Tooru escaped from Iwaizumi Hajime._

* * * * * *

“Oh, I don’t doubt you, Iwaizumi,” Kuroo said, raising his hands as if in surrender, his words yanking Iwaizumi out of the memory. His shit-eating grin never faltered, though. The guy could probably be shot and he could still be grinning, annoyingly. “If you’re having trouble catching him, I’m sure the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

“I seriously don’t know how you cope,” Tanaka complimented. “I wouldn’t be able to handle that much frustration without blowing a fuse and getting reprimanded by Daichi.”

“Oh, he gets reprimanded by Daichi,” Suga commented, and Iwaizumi could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “He just doesn’t listen to my husband and I when we clearly know better.”

“I listen to him, I just don’t act on what he tells me because I know it won’t work,” Iwaizumi muttered. “If I give Oikawa breathing room, time to get comfortable, I’ll fall behind on his tactics and then I won’t ever catch him.” He huffed and let his head fall back against the concrete building. “And, Tanaka, I cope with my two best friends—”

“Excuse me?” Matsukawa cut in abruptly, loudly over the comms earpiece. He sounded extremely bitter, which made Iwaizumi grin. “Last time I checked, I was your only best friend, thank you very much.”

“—whiskey and a bourbon chaser,” Iwaizumi finished.

“Always good to know that our fearless leader has alcoholic tendencies,” Kuroo remarked, earning a snicker from Bokuto.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me, Agent Muscles.”

“Why don’t you both shut the fuck up, huh? How about that?” Suga snapped at them, sounding like a mom telling her kids to be quiet on a long road trip.

There was a clattering sound, which they all recognized as the garage doors to the building opening and everyone went silent, not a murmur among them. Matsukawa sucked in a breath and whispered, “Okay, it’s go time. I’m hacking into their cameras now. So, call me beep me if you wanna reach me.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and just. . . . “ _Kim Possible_?” he muttered. “Really?”

“What else do you want me reference? You keep shutting down my _Spy Kids_ quotes, which I don’t understand because most of them have to do with Antonio Banderas, who is a hot piece of ass, as we all know.” There was the slightest sounds of everyone humming in agreement. And that should have been the end of it, no more conversation until Iwaizumi or Matsukawa gave them to signal to barge in and hold the counterfeiters at gunpoint.

However, now everyone was distracted, thinking of one of the catchiest theme songs ever. So the comms were far from quiet. It started with Bokuto and Kuroo, together, softly singing, “Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when.”

“I will be there for you till the very end,” Suga soft murmured, a smile in his voice. They all knew that Daichi and Suga loved to watch that show whenever they had to babysit Suga’s little cousin who was infatuated with the show. (Daichi loved it too, but never would admit it in front of them, lest he risk being teased by all of them for the rest of his natural life.)

“In danger,” Noya added excitedly. Iwaizumi could hear the excitement bubbling in his voice, and he was probably bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Or trouble,” Tanaka continued, just as enthusiastically.

“I’m there on the double,” Asahi sang timidly, no one had expected him to join in but they were glad he did. He always got so nervous before a mission like this, they hoped this would help him calm down a notch or two.

“You know that you always can call,” Shimizu with her soulful, quiet voice started the end of the song, and they were all perfectly content to let her finish because Shimizu had the best voice of them all. As that was happening, Iwaizumi peeked his head inside the garage, through the crack in the glass window and saw that a majority of the men they were to apprehend had already showed up.

But then—

There was the sound of a door slamming open. “KIM POSSIBLE!” Oh fuck, Iwaizumi knew those voices. Had they been listening in? How the fuck and they been listening in on them? Did they hack Matsukawa? They shouldn’t have been able to, only Kenma or Akaashi were talented enough to do that.

He heard every single agent suck in a breath, maybe some out of excited awe and some out of horror, but Iwaizumi’s mouth was pressed in a thin line, his eyes narrowing. He saw Kuroo and Bokuto exchange a glance of pure amusement, he imagined that everyone else shared their enthusiasm, or if they were like Suga, were very concerned. Matsukawa muttered the confirmation Iwaizumi had been waiting for, “Oikawa Tooru and Hanamaki Takahiro have entered the building, carrying a large suit case, they’re probably the printers.”

“What the hell did you say?” one of the drug runners just inside asked Oikawa and Hanamaki.

“Nothing, really. So, what’s the sitch?” Oikawa’s voice asked brightly, sounding like he was simply having a relaxing day in the park rather than meeting with an underground drug ring.

Iwaizumi peeked inside again and saw Hanamaki stepping in first, dressed entirely as Naruto in a blonde wig and blue contacts but it was him. A burnt orange jumpsuit with black lining, the iconic headband, a red cloak with black flames sprouting up from the bottom hemming, and the black sandals. Iwaizumi was so close to screaming with frustration at the sight but then he saw Oikawa and his mouth dropped to the floor. The thief was dressed as Sasuke, in navy blue pants over which hung a lighter blue cloth that fell to his knees, secured by a dusty amethyst rope belt, the black sandals and bandage-like armguards, but the best part of the outfit (which Iwaizumi would never admit) was the dark grey, sleeveless grey shirt that was cut down to his torso to show off most of the creamy skin of his chest and neck.

“Wow, Matsukawa, you were right, he does basically drool over Oikawa,” Kuroo marveled as quietly as he could. “Never seen a man so weak in all my life.”

“I do not drool over him,” Iwaizumi snapped at his teammate. Besides, Oikawa looked sexier in that ruby red corset. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“We have the money,” Hanamaki said, hoisting the suitcase onto the table. He sounded so bored, and Oikawa was tapping his foot up and down impatiently. “Printed on a Heidelberg MF521, a pretty pathetic machine but it’s what you asked for. Seriously, did you have to choose a machine that creates pressure along the faceplate number? I had to find and use a rubber adjustment to change the ink pressure for each section!”

“Can we see proof that they’re legit?” one member asked, a big guy with a gruff voice. He was all muscle, clearly hired to try and intimidate Hanamaki and Oikawa.

“They’ll never be legit,” Hanamaki deadpanned, raising a thin eyebrow. “They’re counterfeit bills, they’re the exact the opposite of legit.”

Oikawa simply rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket and pulled out two similar looking renminbi bills and handed them over. “Take a look for yourself. Let’s see how observant those beady, little eyes of yours are,” he challenged, a proud smirk coming over his features.

The guy growled, debating whether or not he should attack Oikawa, but another guy stepped in between them and reached over to take the bills. He examined them for a moment and scoffed haughtily. “You two must not be as good as you say you are because this is too fucking easy. This one on the left, the print is off by, at most, a half inch, and over on the right, all the details are too perfect especially the treasury seal. The one on the right is the counterfeit, you overcompensated to make it too detailed, am I right?”

“So, you’d use the left bill for a shopping spree?” Hanamaki whistled low and very amused, like he had heard an impressive joke. “Congratulations, buddy, you just won yourself a five year long, all expenses paid trip to the Qincheng Prison. No. The one on the left is the counterfeit, look closely and you’ll see a very faint printing sheer that shouldn’t be there at all, in fact, you can’t really see it without a magnifying glass.” He opened up the briefcase and bills spilled over and onto the table, eyes locked onto the money and jaws dropped to the floor. “So, give us the information we want and all of this and fifteen more cases are yours.”  
Iwaizumi watched as their leader, a tall, buff gentleman in a suit and smoking a cigar, stepped forward and ran his hands down the bills. “Mars,” Oikawa clarified with a certain stiffness that did not suit him at all, and Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. That was the second time that name was mentioned. “I want to know if he’s still in town, where he’s staying, how many men are with him, what is after here in China?”

“He’s still here, was asking about you, actually,” he leader replied. He let out a puff of the cigar smoke into Oikawa’s face. “No clue as to where he’s staying, we sent a guy to follow him, and he didn’t come back. Since he’s been so curious about you and your exploits of late, though, he would probably be delighted to see you.”

“Can you set up a meeting for us to see him?” Hanamaki asked. The two of them were uncharacteristically grim. “Nothing too formal. We just have a score to settle with him. Purely business.” The glare on his face said otherwise.

“Xinyi, make a call.”

“Iwaizumi, do you want to wait any longer?” Suga’s voice cut in so suddenly Iwaizumi flinched. “They might drop some more information if lie in wait a little bit longer.”

“No,” Iwaizumi decided firmly, thankful for Sugawara’s abrupt interruption. It snapped him out of his thoughts, snapped his eyes away from lingering on Oikawa for too long. “We move in now. Just like Daichi ordered. If there’s any further information we want, we’ll get it out of them during interrogation, whether they like it or not.”

“Yeah, but who the fuck is Mars?” Nishinoya asked, a harsh and confused whisper.

“Unimportant. We go in on three. Matsukawa?”

“‘Kick the tires and light the fires, big daddy,’” his handler agreed, another freaking quote. This time it was from _Independence Day_ , now that was a movie with quotes Iwaizumi could get behind.

However, Kuroo couldn’t help himself. “‘Big daddy’? Matsukawa, who knew you were so _kinky_?”

And on that less than serious note, Iwaizumi gave the signal for them to move in. Bokuto, being pure muscle, kicked the door in and Kuroo and Iwaizumi surged past him, shouting for everyone in the room to put their hands up. Oikawa and Hanamaki managed to find time to exchange an exasperated look and roll their eyes. Suga and Shimizu’s teams came in as well and their targets were now surrounded and outnumbered, but they were still ready to fight to run away. They reached for their guns and knives, but Nishinoya aimed his shotgun upwards and fired a thunderous shot, a deafening roar, into the air and through the wooden ceiling, to let their targets know who had more firepower here. The gang seemed unsure, but they eventually got on their knees, hands raised in the air in surrender.

Iwaizumi knew that the drug ring was the priority but every part of him itched to leap over the table and tackle the two thieves to the ground and subdue them. He kept a gun on them as he checked with the other teams. Once Suga and Shimizu’s teams had an apparent handle on the situation and would take them in, he turned his attention to the thieves. He slowly started to advance, guns raised with steady hands, a warning. Make one move and I will shoot. Kuroo and Bokuto, since they were still a part of his team, followed their leader.

“Hi, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa tried, giving him a sheepish grin. He wasn’t moving, eyeing the twin pistols in Iwaizumi’s grip warily. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re coming with me, one way or another. Put your hands up, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi ordered with a leveled glare, “or I’ll shoot you right here and drag your bleeding body back to headquarters.”

“And you know I look so good in red,” Oikawa smirked, slowly and tempestuously. Iwaizumi swallowed, hard, remembering the captivating sight of the thief in the revealing corset, how it hugged his body in all the right places and exposed his long, toned, creamy legs. “Ooh, distracted, Iwa-chan?” he teased, a mischievous glint twinkling like stars in his eyes. “I looked sexy, right?”

“Money camouflage!” Hanamaki shouted dramatically, like it was an attack in some anime, and picked up the briefcase to throw the money up and into the air, quite literally making it rain money. “ _Let’s fucking bolt, Oikawa!_ ”

True to his promise, Iwaizumi shot at them, firing four shots in their direction, but with the sudden snowfall of money, he knew it was unlikely that he hit anything vital. He did hear Oikawa cry out in pain and hiss a few curses ( _“Iwa-chan, you ripped my costume, this thing cost me a fortune!”_ ), but it didn’t stop them in the slightest. Oikawa and Hanamaki dove out the same side window Iwaizumi had been looking through during the stakeout and bolted like death was right behind them. They were fast and slippery like eels, but Iwaizumi had Bokuto and Kuroo as his back up.

“We have the targets under control. Follow them, Iwaizumi!” Suga ordered, heaving up the leader like he weighed nothing and pushing the criminal towards the back entrance (if you think people say it’s scary when Daichi lifts people up or pushes them around, then you should see Suga, strong as hell but doesn’t look it so it’s a major fucking surprise).

Iwaizumi didn’t need to be told twice to go after Oikawa, already following them with the speed of a man on a mission. He heard Kuroo and Bokuto whooping gleefully and following after him like he was a parent taking them to a luxury candy store on their birthdays. He didn’t care if they thought this was fun or not, only that they were going to help him chase down these international thieves that had evaded him for three months with the speed of the Flash.

* * * * * *

Oikawa glanced down at his side. He was certainly bleeding, but the bullets had only grazed him. Nothing serious. He would be fine, his luck with bullets must’ve really kicked in to save his ass back there, but the odds weren’t in his favor of escaping Iwaizumi with two other agents helping him. They needed something to throw the agents off. “Makki,” he said as they raced down the streets. “So, Plan: Law Is A Royal Pain?”

His best friend seemed to think for a second and then his lips split into a big, mischievous grin that mirrored Oikawa’s. “Let’s fucking do it,” he said. “Just don’t get yourself killed before we can pull this off.”

“Please, it’s me we’re talking about. It’ll be fine, Makki!”

“See you at the police station!”

“I’ll be there, looking good in handcuffs!”

Oikawa smirked to himself and put some horizontal distance between himself and Makki by running onto the other side of the street, to draw Iwaizumi away from his other two agents. His lungs burned from exertion but there was certainly something about the building excitement that made him easily put on another burst of speed. He glanced over his shoulder to see Iwaizumi break away and follow him with he speed of a bullet, gorgeous green eyes trained on Oikawa.

Show time.

* * * * * *

Now, in his time chasing Oikawa and Hanamaki, Iwaizumi had thought he was pretty well adjusted to their shenanigans when they ran away from him. Ridiculous costumes? Yeah, he was sort of used to those by now. Naruto and Sasuke? Sure, why not? They certainly could’ve picked worse outfits. However, he what wasn’t prepared for was the sight of them doing the Naruto run down the streets. They looked absolutely stupid in ever conceivable way possible.

 _Oh well_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself, giving chase. It could be worse. _They could be singing that one goddamn theme song everyone won't shut up about._

Even though the thieves were fleeing away in a ridiculous fashion, they were still very quick on their feet, leaping onto the roofs of cars or stepping onto motorcycles to just barely get out of the agents’ reach. Kuroo and Bokuto after a few minutes were started to get agitated in their attempts to grasp at Oikawa and Hanamaki, to the point where Bokuto was basically growling loudly as his feet pounded heavily against the sidewalk and Kuroo was eerily silent as he calculated his next move. It was no longer just being another chase.

Iwaizumi left Kuroo and Bokuto to catch Hanamaki, so he focused solely on Oikawa. The thief glanced back at him with cool, brown eyes that made a shiver of anticipation crawl up Iwaizumi’s spine, and then he took a sharp right . . . right into a very crowded restaurant. Iwaizumi didn’t know what else to do so he followed without hesitance, carefully minding where his finger was in relation to the trigger of his guns, and found himself dodging waiters and customers while Oikawa was happy to jump from table to table, narrowly avoiding stepping in food, to evade Iwaizumi’s reaching grasp.

Suddenly Oikawa stopped on one of the tables and raised his hands to his mouth. “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE! HELP ME! HE’S GOT A GUN AND HE WANTS TO SHOOT ME!”

So that was his game this time around. Clever and annoying as fuck, so it was essentially a perfectly normal behavior when it came to Oikawa Tooru.

Iwaizumi had half a mind to shoot him in the head right there and then, but they were required to bring him in alive. So with his little speech over, Oikawa raced out of restaurant and back out into the streets, still screaming about how he was being chased by a quote, unquote psychopath. Iwaizumi was right behind him, grumbling curses under his breath. The last thing he needed was for the police to get involved. While law enforcement officers had good intentions (usually), they were often more troublesome than helpful when it came to completing espionage missions like these.

Now that they were back out in the open, Oikawa was making more of a show than ever before. He jumped onto the cars and screamed that his life was in danger, would run a little slower but always put on a trust of speed before Iwaizumi could get a solid grasp on him, or wail about how he was being robbed and threatened. His little performance was gaining quite a bit of attention.

Then came the familiar shrieks of police sirens. Oikawa moved towards a police car and Iwaizumi took the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, holding the gun to the back of his head. “Police have no power over me,” he managed to growl into Oikawa’s ear before the police, in turn, tackled Iwaizumi to the ground, shouting in mandarin for him to give it up and surrender before he got himself hurt. This was certainly not how Iwaizumi thought his evening was going to go.

“Officers, please help me, he was after my money and when I didn’t give it to him, he chased after me with two guns!” Oikawa whined, crying fake tears that made Iwaizumi roll his eyes. “I’ve never been so afraid in all my life!”

“BULLSHIT! Officers, don’t believe him, I work for the CIA,” Iwaizumi lied, what he said next wasn’t. It was so hard to sound sure of himself while speaking another language and attempting to sound fluent. “He’s been printing counterfeit money for drug dealers in the area and helping them distribute molly and meth.” He jerked away form the hands at his shoulders as the cool metal of handcuffs were secured around his wrists.

And they took his guns too! _Well, isn’t this just a great fucking day?!_ Iwaizumi thought to himself bitterly as he was pulled to his feet roughly. Open carry in a country that doesn’t allow open carry or guns for that matter, and he didn’t have any formal ID that would work outside of a passport. He didn’t exist on file, so this was going to be a pain in the ass. This was supposed to be a cut and dry mission but it just got as hell of a lot more difficult.

The officers exchanged looks, tired and thoroughly vexed, before deciding to bring both Oikawa and Iwaizumi in for questioning. They were both shoved into the back of a police car and Iwaizumi glanced out the window to see Kuroo and Bokuto waving farewell to him, and he distinctly noticed that they were trying not to laugh, even though they clearly hadn’t been able to catch Hanamaki Takahiro. He glared at them, and definitely would’ve flipped them off with both hands, if he hadn’t been cuffed to his seat.

So, this was actually happening.

“Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa’s voice came in over the comms, and Iwaizumi closed his eyes and sighed. “ _What the actual fuck have you gotten yourself into this time?_ I leave my station for five seconds to help Suga log in that we caught the drug dealers and you get arrested by the local police?!”

“Just get Suga to get me out of here,” Iwaizumi grumbled, really not in the mood for a lecture.

“Ah, what I’ve always wanted,” Oikawa huffed, shuffling in his seat to try and get more comfortable, which happened to be settling closet to Iwaizumi, as he slid the agent a sly, tempestuous smile. Goddamn it if he wasn’t the most attractive guy Iwaizumi had ever laid eyes on. “Iwa-chan and I in the backseat of a car. All we need now is for the cops to give us some alone time, an iPod to play sensual music to get the sexy mood going, and _much_ less clothing.”

“I fucking hate you so goddamn much,” Iwaizumi seethed through his teeth, giving Oikawa the most murderous glare he can pull off, but it didn’t seem to faze him one bit. Instead, a stream of the most adorable giggles fell from Oikawa’s lips. “I am going to shoot you.”

“Iwa-chan’s so cute when he’s grumpy,” Oikawa sighed dreamily, also handcuffed. He leaned forward until Iwaizumi couldn’t lean back any further and bumped their noses together for a brief second but long enough to send a blush across Iwaizumi’s cheeks, dusting them a faint, rosy hue. “Boop!”

* * * * * *

Daichi had several ringtones on his phone. Whoever the contact was, that was who had chosen the ringtone to represent them and thus created a multitude of headaches for the poor director of Seijoh whenever one of his agents called him. Iwaizumi’s was the classic _Godzilla_ roar, Bokuto’s was I’m A Bird Motha’ Fucker, Kuroo’s was _The Pink Panther_ theme, Matsukawa’s was the _Mission Impossible_ theme, and Suga’s was Pour Some Sugar On Me. But the good news was that he was really only expecting one phone call today, one from Suga telling him that the mission was cleared and successful and that they would be home soon (where Daichi could then smother him with kisses upon their arrival).

So, when he heard the familiar riff of his husband’s ringtone, he was more than happy to pick up. “Suga, how did the mission—”

“Daichi, darling, my whole world, you raise me up, you know how I love you so very much, more than anything in this world, and have literally done nothing wrong in my entire life and have always encouraged others to be above pettiness and grudges?” Suga asked, his voice sugary sweet and immediately Daichi’s brow furrowed. That didn’t sound good at all and sounded exactly like when Suga asked for favors, which were rare but were always because someone had fucked up.

“Oh, I believe that you love me,” he said, leaning back in his super comfy leather chair. Literally, this thing was like heaven, no wonder people wanted the job of Director of Seijoh, the chair was literally better than any couch. “But you’re a little shit sometimes, like when you convinced me that we wouldn’t get caught having sex in my office, and then we did. Still love you so much and I’m so happy we’re married.”

“Oh, good, great. So, you know how I never ask for anything because you’re all I need—“ Ooh, that sounds bad, really, really, bad. They must be desperate.

Daichi drummed his his fingers against the hard wood of his mahogany desk. It was littered with mission files and evidence logs. It was a mess, but it was his mess. “What happened this time? The mission was a success, wasn’t it?”

Nothing, not a sound from Suga. He could faintly hear the bustling sounds of a busy restaurant in the background, shouts in mandarin, laughter, and glasses clinking together in a toast. They were back at the temporary headquarters, so they were safe, unless it was only most of them that were safe. A rush of fear shortly surged through Daichi, cold and awakening. Did someone die? No . . . No, no, no, no. They were all good agents, too good to die so soon. He didn’t think he could take it if any of them died.

Oh god if it was was Shimizu, what would he tell Yachi?

Now a bit more ragged, he leaned forward in his seat, like that could somehow bring him closer to his agents, to his husband. “Suga, tell me no one died, that nothing went wrong.”

“No, Daichi. Don’t worry, no one’s dead, but I can’t really tell you that nothing went wrong, so . . .”

“Okay, the mission simply took a turn, all right.” Daichi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel one hell of a headache coming on, but at least no one was dead. Then what the tell could have happened? “Just—Please tell me it’s not Iwaizumi this time.”

His husband was very quiet again, and a few distant snickers could be heard over the line. He recognized them as Bokuto and Kuroo’s. Of course those two would find this hilarious. Tanaka and Nishinoya were probably laughing it up somewhere too, Shimizu giving them a quiet scolding to be polite, or pumping themselves up for whatever the new mission would be (yelling like they were super saiyans or something like that).

“Suga?” Daichi sighed, a slight tone of warning seeping into his voice.

“You said not to tell you it was Iwaizumi, so I’m not telling you that it isn’t Iwaizumi.”

“Jesus Christ. What did he do this time?”

Suga was about to answer, but had to pause to give out a breathy chuckle that slipped out, “He got arrested chasing Oikawa Tooru.”

Daichi closed his eyes as he felt his headache get ten times worse. Of course Oikawa Tooru was somehow there, and of course Iwaizumi couldn’t help himself in giving in to the chase. “I’m on my way. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

* * * * * *

“So, what’re you in for?”

Iwaizumi, his brow etched in a perpetual glare, turned to see a very big, burly criminal sitting in the corner of the holding cell. He had a sickish grin on his face as he was fully facing Oikawa, eyes raking up and down the thief’s body like he was a piece of meat. Iwaizumi shouldn’t care, his job didn’t require him to, but, for some fucking, unforeseen reason, he really cared, and it seriously pissed him off to see someone ogling Oikawa so disgustingly. That was the second time he found himself clenching his fists because he hated that they were being so openly disrespectful to Oikawa, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. This was becoming a weakness, one he needed to push away. Oikawa was a criminal on the run from Iwaizumi and nothing more. There’s no feelings to be found here, that’s what he kept telling himself.

In any case, he was thoroughly pleased to find that Oikawa wasn’t returning any of the attention, seemingly bored with the man’s very existence.

“Hey, pretty boy,” the man snarled again, chuckling. He moved to sit next to Oikawa, but the thief kicked his feet up to take the room spare room on the bench, leaving the rude man to stand there, a tad dumbfounded at how dismissively rude Oikawa was being. Probably a dangerous choice, but Iwaizumi admired his mettle in the situation. “I asked you a question. What’re you in for?”

“Too hip for the party,” Oikawa huffed, not even sparing the man a glance, now examining his nails with an apathetic expression. “You know how it is, people just can’t handle someone as dazzling as moi.”

“What d’ya say, when we get out of here, you ditch your little friend—?”

Oikawa laughed. “Iwa-chan is _anything_ but little.”

Iwaizumi choked on his breath, sent into an abrupt coughing fit, turning to Oikawa to give him another murderous glare. “What the fuck, Oikawa?”

“What?” Oikawa shrugged, grinning from ear-to-ear with Iwaizumi’s attention suddenly on him. The other guy seemed to think about punching Oikawa for his frivolous demeanor but Iwaizumi slid him his glare and he backed down. “I _intimately_ know what you’ve got between your legs, Iwa-chan, no need to be so shy.”

“How would you—?” Iwaizumi started, standing and grabbing Oikawa by his shirt front and hauling him up as well. “There’s no way! You don’t know shit! We haven’t _fucked_!” He spat out the word like it tasted bad, but his mind was flooded with lewd and sweet, harmonic sounds and it caused a rush of a heat to crawl up to his cheeks. He shouldn’t be thinking about these things, no, he really, really shouldn’t.

“Haven’t we though?” Oikawa bounced and waggled his eyebrow suggestively with the worst and biggest smile on his face, like he was trying his best and failing to keep from laughing. God he was somehow infinitely worse than Bokuto and Kuroo _combined_! Iwaizumi never wanted to imagine the three of them hanging out, talk abut a disaster int he making.

There was a knock on the waiting cell’s bars, and they both turned to see who was trying to get their attention, Oikawa still hanging limply from Iwaizumi’s iron grip on the collar of his costume. There was Hanamaki Takahiro, accompanied by an officer. He was dressed in a crisp, new business suit holding a formal, leather brief case with his strawberry blond hair slicked back with some sort of gel. The minute he and Oikawa locked eyes and shared a shit grin, he burst into a shout, “Your highness, what have they done to you?”

“My lawyer!” Oikawa broke away from Iwaizumi and rushed towards the bars. “Get me out of here so I can go home! They don’t understand! They even took the crown my uncle gave to me as a gift when they searched me!”

A newfound level of fury reached Iwaizumi. He grabbed Oikawa again by the shirt front and raised his fist, threatening to punch him. “You have the crown?” he snarled viciously. “Give it to me, that thing belongs in a museum, you damn thief!”

“That’s why this brute was after me, officer!” Oikawa ignored him, turning his pleas to the officer beside Hanamaki. “He wanted my priceless crown but it was a gift from my uncle, Emperor Akihito of Japan!”

“Do you realize who you have locked up?” Hanamaki demanded, facing the officer who was paling at the sudden loudness and insanity occurring. “This is the nephew of the Emperor Akihito of Japan! Do you know the outrage that will break out if you continue to keep him in here?”

“He was dressed strangely,” the officer insisted, in an attempt to defend himself. “We didn’t know what to think, and then this other guy—” he motioned to Iwaizumi “—tackled your supposed royal boy here and said he was CIA, and that your guy here is a counterfeiter. It was too suspicious, so we made the safe decision to bring him in until someone or he could provide proof.”

“I’m in town for Cosplay Con! My lawyer here has all my paperwork!” Oikawa wailed breaking away from Iwaizumi again. If there was ever an award for the most overdramatic bastard in the world, it would probably go to Oikawa Tooru for this stupid performance that was somehow fooling the guard. “Please let me go, officer, I have been in a constant state fear ever since you locked me in here with my attacker! He’s grabbed me twice since and I’m terrified that he’ll kill me if I’m left here! Call my uncle, the Emperor of Japan, or my aunt and they’ll vouch for me!”

“Do you have an ID to prove that you’re who you say you are?” the officer asked. He was shifting uncomfortably. This was definitely not what he thought he was going to be dealign with today, Iwaizumi could seriously relate. Today was not as great as he’d been hoping it would be. “If you can provide that proof, we’ll let him go to avoid any further trouble.”

Hanamaki smiled, relieved, and reached into his briefcase. “I have all the necessary documentation here, officer. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“You can’t let him go!” Iwaizumi objected, banging his fists against the bars, angrier than he meant to be. He’s a spy, he’s supposed to be more collected than this. He just couldn’t help it. Oikawa might escape again and all because of this tricked cop! His ire was reaching a boiling point. “He’s not royalty, he’s a thief! That crown he’s talking about is one he stole in Great Britain. He’s an international thief that I’ve been chasing for three months. You let him go and he’s just going to keep stealing, maybe even take something from your museums here. Do you want that on your conscience.”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to settle down,” the officer warned, try to assert authority but mostly just made Iwaizumi want to laugh in his face. This whole outcome was completely ridiculous!

“You,” Iwaizumi snarled, whirling on Oikawa who put on a show off cowering in fear, who had previously giggled at Iwaizumi’s darker than night scowls. He pushed Oikawa against the wall of the cell and got right in his face. They were barely centimeters apart, his nails digging into Oikawa’s shoulders, but the thief showed no signs of pain, but looked so damn triumphant with that holier than thou smirk on his face. “You’re not getting away this time! I will tie you down if I have too!”

“Ooh, so rough, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed, ever the tease, suddenly rocking his hips against Iwaizumi’s, making the agent nearly jump back in surprise, his breath coming out a stutter. He leaned in close and let his voice dip into that sexy lilt that nearly sent Iwaizumi reeling, wanting. “I love it when say such dirty things in that _delicious_ voice of yours.”

“Get off my client! Officer, how could you allow this to happen?” Hanamaki interrupted, ripping Iwaizumi off Oikawa and throwing him to the ground, dragging his partner out of the cell before the agent could get back to his feet. Once the cell door clanged shut with a finality that filled him with a disappointed dread like lead weighing him down, he noticed Hanamaki pull something else out of the briefcase. That goddamn crown, gems, blues, and gold shining like new.

With wide eyes, he watched Oikawa easily slide it on like a crowned prince and give a little twirl like he was trying on a new outfit, giving Iwaizumi a victorious smile and a wink. Fuck, he still really looked good with that crown on, like he was meant to wear it, but it was so aggravating to watch him flaunt it around to show off to Iwaizumi, to show that he was just so much better and completely out of Iwaizumi’s reach.

“Bye-bye, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa waved to him cheerily. He turned to Hanamaki as the two of them began to walk out. “Our meeting with Mars?”

“Off the table, they don’t like that you were caught,” Hanamaki replied sourly. He handed over the papers to the officer for them to process so Oikawa would be released.

“You won’t get far, Oikawa! My team is probably waiting for you! We’ll catch you and then you’ll give us everything! Your ties, what you’ve stolen! You can’t run forever!” He didn’t even get a verbal response to his outburst, the thief just blew him a kiss before disappearing.

Iwaizumi slumped down in the cell, feeling utterly defeated, not even sitting on the bench, but savoring the coldness of the concrete floor beneath him, it was grounding and set his mind to work. If he got out soon, he could probably tail them, catch them before they made it to the airport, but the more time that passed, the slimmer his chances became. He was confident in himself, that he could catch Oikawa— no, that he would eventually catch Oikawa, but that confidence was dwindling the more times he failed to catch the thief. He didn’t like that he couldn’t really apprehend him, but he liked the chase. Sure, it was frustrating and damn confusing at times, but it was also the greatest challenge he’d ever been faced with as an espionage agent.

He needed to pick himself up, wallowing in self pity wasn’t going to help anything or anyone, least of all lead to Oikawa’s capture.

So, he would wait, bide his time, and try again and again. If Oikawa was running, Iwaizumi would be right there chasing after him. It wouldn’t matter how many times the thief escaped him, the agent would come back ten times tougher and stronger until he could catch the elusive Oikawa Tooru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed this insanity! The others will be less insane but I hope this was tolerable. 
> 
> Song for the chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Im8zYhFB0JA
> 
> Iwaizumi’s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8aIwP2ensk  
> Bokuto’s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36rSFrIhFZI  
> Kuroo’s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OPc7MRm4Y8  
> Matsukawa’s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAYhNHhxN0A  
> Suga’s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q41_pWgYd20 
> 
> Things to look forward to next time: Oikawa's sister and Takeru, who appear to be just as troublesome as the thief is, and Oikawa Tooru on the motherfucking warpath.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you would like to see more of this AU! It means the world to me to know that you enjoy reading this fic and series!


End file.
